I want to make it clear that I did not make the classic mistake of celebrating 2008. I merely kissed 2007 goodbye. There's a huge difference.
Here's me last year.

Look at that. FOOL! Celebrating a year that hadn't begun and would prove to suck. Well, no more. I am never again going to celebrate a year I haven't lived yet starting with this one. As far as I'm concerned, the jury is out on 2008. No. The jury hasn't even been seated yet.
And for those of you who stubbornly cling to the idea of celebrating a year at it's beginning, think about this. What if you die this year? You've already gone on record as having endorsed this year as a good one. Dumb. Really dumb.
We went to see some friends in Charleston, SC. I've some cool pictures to post as soon as I can dig the SD card out of the seat cushions in my car.
Their house was on a beautiful private island accessible only by boat to residents and their confirmed guests. Transport on the island is by golf cart or feet. The gimmick here is the closeness and harmony with the environment. Strict building codes and absolutely no retail.
That means, of course, you have to pretty much storyboard your next couple of days before you take a 12-mile boat ride back to civilization just to get to your car. And it's not like you get a discount for regressing so. In fact, all the residents and home owners paid quite the hefty premium for the remoteness and oneness of it all. Environmentalism is so cumbersome, inefficient, almost masochistic. You work your ass off for years to earn all this money and then blow it on a spread where you can watch birds and grass and trees like you can anywhere, but just less comfortably. I don't see it. All that cash to pretend you're a shipwreck survivor.
I like nature, but it's kind of boring after awhile. That's why they have cable channels. They sift through all the nature out there for the good stuff to film and show on TV. That way, you get some nature in ya, and can get some work done. That was the tacit bargain struck centuries ago between the rural and city people. Some of us will need to work in buildings with our minds.
Then I get home and glance at the WSJ which is reeling about the $100 a barrel oil, and how the US economy is in turmoil over this. Yeah, no kidding. Being environmentally friendly is hideously, obscenely expensive. The return on investment is poor. I've read several analyses that say roughly the same thing. We have enough oil in the ground obtainable at current technology to last 100 years at $1 a gallon. Plenty of time for Mother Necessity to help us discover new human sustaining technologies. So let's cut that shit out in '08.
Some good news on the '08 front. Hillary Clinton loses the first round pretty badly. Third place behind John Fagwards and Barack O Carter. You just know she's screaming at someone tonight and making Bill look more and more like a hero for cheating on her. I won't be the first or last with my analysis on this matter, but arguably the clearest. She lost because she's ugly and mean. Nothing anyone can do at this point to change this. She's certainly in it for the long haul because of her money, connections, and willingness to murder, but America will not vote for her. Nice.
On the other hand, if the GOP keeps handing I Hate Huckabee victories in the early going, your pal Wachs may be forced to take a hard look at Ms. Cynthia McKinney with the Green Party. At least with her, she'll do something to get herself impeached, and we can start fresh. Who's her running mate? Bobby Petrino? I'm in.
What else to catch up on? Oh, yeah. I got yelled at by a wedding DJ last week for watching the Patriots/Giants game instead of participating on the dance floor. Look, jackleg. You spin the MP3s and let me worry how to entertain myself. Weddings are for women and their friends. I participated plenty, but weddings end for me when dessert is served.
Even my wife, despite her frenzy to escape her roots and marry into my family fortune, soberly understood the implications for her special day and worked with me in scheduling our wedding for a day when no major sporting events would distract from our union of love. Unfortunately, the SF earthquake of '89 delayed the World Series to our day, but at least we made an effort and that Series sucked and no one cared when it returned.
Beyond that though, what kind of man tells other men, who are GUESTS, and are ENJOYING THEMSELVES, watching one of the most MEMORABLE FOOTBALL GAMES OF THE DECADE, to stop? John Kerry risked all of his political cred demanding this game be put on three networks as the Constitution says, so we're almost obligated to watch. This DJ must be paid per boogie...or he's a fem.
Saw two movies that have Oscar buzz all over them. Juno was a pleasant disappointment. It came within a pregnant teen's belly hair of being unbearable with dialogue that made "Clerks" seem natural. The soundtrack has convinced me that, from now on, the word "indie" is to be used as an insult for people who are consciously quirky. Then I saw "No Country For Old Men" which is a good movie with a shitty ending. You will love it and then you will hate it as I did.
Tiffany Fallon was just fired from Celebrity Apprentice. That hurts. I know she still wants me and my brother, Dr. Mike, in a threesome with me watching from a closet. Now I can't watch her every week. I feel like NBC has done something terribly wrong, and I've emailed them to bring her back and set Omarosa on fire as she deserves. I'd love to see Trump say to her, "You're on fire!"
I swear, as soon as I find a foolproof alibi for the night when Rascal Flatts' bus goes over a cliff due to the brake lines being cut, she will be my next wife. I almost had her several years ago, after I photoshopped a penis on her picture and showed it to Keith Brooking, who believed it was real and immediately broke up with her. But by the time I saw her again, she had already hooked up with the band.
Tiffany was the was the first to get fired, too. Double pain. She failed to make a lot of money selling hot dogs apparently, and Trump admonished her, being a Playmate of the Year and all, for not calling up Hugh Hefner and asking for $10,000 for a hot dog.
"He's my good friend," says Trump. "He would have done it for charity, my good friend would have. He would have given you $100,000, I'll bet my good friend would have. Did you know I'm good friends with an aging pornographer? You should have called him. He's a friend."
Well, as a friend, you probably know that Hef doesn't give a Tiffany Fallon $100,000 for a charity hot dog unless it's his weiner being wrapped in her buns out of charity for him being 90 and snorting Viagra.
So Trumpy fired her for being too shy and sweet and being too grossed out by Hugh Hefner. All the things that give me a boner, he hates, that Trump. He could never be my good friend.
Much more later, friends.